


Sanguine Sanctum

by cafedeluna



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, First Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, musical prodigies committing sexy crimes in the office, the penthouse inspired fic no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafedeluna/pseuds/cafedeluna
Summary: Doyoung can do anything for his son. That includes climbing the bed of his past who have come to haunt him again; all for the sake of his son."Promise me.""I promise you." Taeyong breathes on his skin. "Sungchan will have everything in his palm as long as I have all of you."
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 25
Kudos: 181
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	Sanguine Sanctum

**Author's Note:**

> this round was so much fun to write. it's one of the fics that i enjoyed writing in a short amount of time. i hope you find enjoyment in this dotae <333
> 
> lots of thanks to [sharkie](https://ao3.org/users/fvckradio) 🦈 for helping me out for this round! ♡ you're so coooool.

"The academy wants you to visit, soon."

 _Visit_ , was an understatement cloaked with a polite touch that Doyoung easily discerned. Soon does not mean soon but a sugared term that means 'now or never'. Doyoung pushes away his plate of salad, dries the corners of his mouth with a napkin and meets his son's eyes from across the table.

The soulful sound of a cello plays from the turntable. Almost like a harmony that was brought in along with the buttery light casting through the open windows of the manor. The warmth of the first rays of the sun winding in through the spacious abode. Everything is as still as a placid lake. Making the sound of Doyoung's chair scraping against the floor even more vicious to the ears in their vicinity. 

"I'll drop by after work. Don't do anything else until then, Sungchan." 

There's no hint of austerity in Doyoung’s tone but the bluntness of the balladeer's clear voice was enough to drive Sungchan erect from his seat and steady on his feet. 

* * *

When Doyoung makes his entrance into the academy, the field is empty of students, the hallways are filled with mere sounds of classes going on within the four corners of the classrooms. He walks to his destination with no eyes following his every move but only the presence of trophies and plaques behind the glass cases. The glory and pride of Gyuri Academy—from generations to generations of performers who have made their names known to the world; Doyoung included. 

He raps a knuckle on the door, a telling knock that announces his identity to the person inside the office. When it swings open, a grin greets him. A shiver inducing expression that had recently engraved itself back in his head after 12 years.

“Mr. Kim, please come in.” Taeyong motions a hand inside the office, to which Doyoung accepts with masked annoyance. 

On normal occasions, any concerns about a student that the academy wishes to communicate with the parent usually happens in one of the little offices connected to the teacher’s lounge. And yet, Doyoung finds himself crossing the threshold to the Director’s office. All of his senses are amplified by the impending incitation that rests on the next steps he is about to take. 

Doyoung knows that whatever it is that he has been called for isn't a matter of urgency nor seriousness but he feigns ignorance to it. He doesn't regard the eyes that follow him as he sits on the long couch but he bathes in the pricking sensation it brings to his skin. Almost as if it's slowly loosening the buttons that keeps his crisp white shirt together. 

He fights the strain in his throat when he speaks. "So I heard my presence has been requested?" Doyoung casts a side look as they are both finally seated. "May I ask what for?" 

"What? No greetings? No asking how I have been?" A glint of humor swims in Taeyong's eyes. Crossing his knee over the other, he leans back on his one-man couch and measures the expression that graces Doyoung's visage at his words.

"I didn't think we still have it in us for pleasantries." Doyoung raises an eyebrow, much to Taeyong's chagrin. 

"Can't fight you on that." Taeyong nods in agreement. "Besides, it's better for the both of us to scrape away the formalities first."

True to his speculations, there was nothing daunting about the matter that Doyoung was called in for. Same old, same old—how a 'concerned parent' reported about Sungchan's whereabouts during the times that he would skip school or miss a subject; in the underground scene, to take part in rapping competitions.

Now, Doyoung immensely opposes his son's fondness towards the craft. But the idea that someone else, who's obviously only showing interest Sungchan's activities knowing that it would put a taint on Sungchan's name, overpowers the bitter taste in his mouth.

However, what is truly daunting is on how Taeyong's gaze is fixated on him—unmoving and smoldering. "But you don't have to worry about it. Everything's been taken care of," Taeyong carefully mutters. "As promised."

The air begins to shift. The formal talk has been scraped. A different path of pursuit dangles around them. Doyoung feels his body giving in to the ardor that has been pounding in his bones since setting a foot in Taeyong's office. 

Taeyong watches as Doyoung rises from his seat to stand in front of him. Taeyong meets him, toe to toe and only a few inches away from each other. Almost breathing the same air that is trapped between their bodies—mingling. 

"Door?" Doyoung asks, almost breathless.

Taeyong smirks. "You didn't notice me locking it when you came in?"

With only a few minutes remaining before the hallways are filled with the chattering of students and footsteps coming close to the door that separates them from the world; Doyoung bridged the gap between their lips. 

* * *

Doyoung adopted Sungchan when he was 12. His parents told him that the child was too old to be adopted and they'd rather have Doyoung adopt someone younger. But that’s exactly one of the reasons why he had taken a liking to the kid; _that_ , and his talent for music that even his parents couldn't deny. 

At such an early age, Sungchan was gifted with the talent to take on any instrument; the piano, violin, cello, clarinet and even harp. 

The boy brought nothing but pride to Doyoung. Sungchan has become the only joy in his life that he can look forward to when he isn’t engulfed in the glamour of his career; as he can’t be bothered to touch a proper relationship. His only joy over the times that gets too much for him as someone who has only given his all towards his career, too unbothered for a proper relationship. 

Or rather, still scarred from the one man that had waltzed out of his life like a ghost only to sweep back in to Doyoung's life, as if 12 years had not passed, as if the hurt he had caused has not been immortalized in the way Doyoung lived his life. Sweeping him off his feet and easily making Doyoung fall back to a rhythm that he once couldn't get enough of. 

But this time around, it's not solely for him but for his son. Although he trusts Sungchan's capabilities to rise among everyone else, what Doyoung wanted in his possession is the assurance that no one else would be able to trample on his son because of greed and jealousy. 

And Taeyong, a ghost from the past that had come back to hold Gyuri in his hands as the newly inaugurated Director, Doyoung's greatest spear to pierce anyone that dares to come after his son. 

_"Promise me."_

_"I promise you." Taeyong breathes on Doyoung's skin. "Sungchan will have everything in his palm as long as I have all of you."_

Doyoung can only hope that as they dance on the glass that reflects the memories of the past, he doesn't end up drowning in it and doesn’t get consumed by the haunting hold that Taeyong's kisses and touches begin to have on him.

* * *

_'Terrius Tower. 12-7.'_

Taeyong texts him right after Doyoung catches Sungchan's tall stature in the ocean of students. It's exactly 5 PM. Doyoung's jaw still emits a faint tingle where Taeyong had placed fluttery kisses, as Doyoung presses himself impossibly closer to the other man. His nape is warm, down to his chest—all they did was kiss and maybe Doyoung guided Taeyong's lips down to the line of his neck as the hotness of the moment carried him away—but it feels like a flame dances rapidly in the pit of his stomach when he exited Taeyong's office.

"Dad…" Sungchan greets his father, stepping into his view. "How—how did it go?" The boy stutters. Although he knows that there will be a consequence to his actions as he yet again disobeyed Doyoung's wishes, Sungchan trusts his father's rationale to give him a good measure for his disobedience. 

Doyoung clearly sees the apprehension in his son's eyes. He is aware of his own expectations of the boy but he also can't allow himself to be a slave to his own pride. 

A smile blooms on Doyoung's visage. 

"Everything has been taken care of." Doyoung claps a hand on Sungchan's shoulder, urging him to walk forward out of the building, where their car awaits for them. "But we will discuss your behavior. For now, let's grab an early dinner and Mr. Choi will drive you home first since I have somewhere to be." 

  
  


Doyoung barely closes the door behind him when his back meets its surface. Taeyong is already crowding his space; hot breath fanning across Doyoung's face, his cheek, and his neck. Strong hands find their places on either side of his waist. Doyoung squirms. But he tilts his head nonetheless, giving Taeyong the free hand to make him melt, right there, nosing against Doyoung's neck while deft fingers finally work on unbuttoning his shirt. With no penchant towards keeping his clothing plaid and neat—Doyoung easily hands Taeyong the reins as wet lips finds purchase on his clavicles that are no longer covered by his clothes. 

A shudder skitters down Doyoung's spine. It wakes him from the abrupt stupor that he had thrown himself into, or that Taeyong had trapped him into. He couldn't completely comprehend. Doyoung is scared that he's beginning to not show any care towards the sudden feelings lurking in his chest.

But he must. 

So with all his might, Doyoung grips the front of the hotel robe that Taeyong changed himself into. He yanks it harshly, forcing Taeyong to look at him. "Make it quick. I have to oversee Sungchan's tutoring session myself." 

Taeyong inches forward, bringing his lips close to capturing Doyoung's bottom lip between his. He traces Doyoung's perfect cupid bow with his eyes, gleaming with wanton desire—to have the plumpness trapped between his teeth, suck it to a swelled mess, to flick his tongue over it and make Doyoung melt against him with a whiny tremble; it's all he ever asked for in 12 years. 

"What a lovely father you are, Kim Doyoung," Taeyong whispers. His voice is lower than how he usually sounds, strained and condensed with avarice. "I can make it quick but have you a wobbling mess once you walk out of here." 

Taeyong was more than happy to oblige to Doyoung's requests—whether it be making Sungchan perform during the academy's exclusive foundation day dinner with big names in different industries present or tying a blindfold across Doyoung's eyes when Taeyong burrows into him. Taeyong gives Doyoung everything, all of him, as if they're making up for lost time. 

* * *

When Doyoung asked, Taeyong clenched his fist so hard that he felt his whole body shook. But it's not like Doyoung can see him. Between them is thousands of miles and only a telephone call that barely holds them together. 

_"Why did you leave me? Without any word, Taeyong." It was clear in Doyoung's voice that he's trying to stop tears from spilling, trying to stop himself from crying out a plea to Taeyong, to just come back and they can forget it all happened. If only he can just come back. They can make it alright once again._

_Even if Doyoung doesn't have any idea what to fix. He'll clamor for the hows._

_"I'm sorry, Doyoung. It just doesn't feel right anymore. I'm sorry it came to this." Lies, Taeyong's mind supplies._

_The words that came out of Doyoung were vile, poisonous, drenching Taeyong with hatred for himself. "Then you could've said it in front of me, you coward."_

Taeyong thinks so too. That he is a coward. Because what he doesn't dare say to Doyoung are words that he spills to Johnny when he asks him.

_"Why did you leave, Taeyong?"_

_He drowns the drink in his hand. "Because it's all I can give him. Freedom. Having no worries about what he's gonna say to defend me from his parents. Because all I ever have is my infamous anonymous title as an underground rapper while he can have the world."_

_"That wasn't your choice to make."_

_"I know. But I felt like it's a sacrifice I should make."_

* * *

_'My house.'_

Taeyong has schedules. Until he doesn't. 

"When I sent the message, I was expecting you to come at least 5 hours later and not 15 minutes." Doyoung hisses when the small of his back hits the fallboard of the grand piano. Taeyong is already up in his space, robbing him of air to breathe as he takes up the space, slowly, step by step, like a predator intimidating its prey. 

But Doyoung can't be so sure on whether he is really intimidated by the piercing aura that Taeyong emits. Rather, his arousal pokes at him, pricking his limbs, his nerves and his stomach, calling his entire being to spur into action. Doyoung easily obliges. With swift fingers, he reaches a hand behind him, carefully covering the piano tiles with the fallboard before he leans his entire weight on top of it and wrapping long legs around Taeyong's waist. Soon enough, the soft sound of jazz playing from his personal turntable in the confines of his study drowned out the sound of lips smacking against each other in a spit-slicked kiss, open mouthed and explorative. 

A dance of hot tongues being exchanged between the heat of Taeyong's mouth and back to Doyoung. 

Steady hands supports Doyoung's legs around Taeyong's waist as Taeyong grips him by his thighs, urging him to wrap himself tighter, impossibly so until the non-existent distance allowed their hips to collide. 

"Your son?" Taeyong pants against Doyoung's cheek when they briefly part for air. 

"At his friend's. He won't be back until tonight."

"Do I also have to be quick this time?" 

"No." Doyoung leans away, just so he could rest his forehead against Taeyong's when he whispers, his breath ragged. "I want you to fuck me nice and slow—wherever you want me, however you want me."

"The piano it is." 

But then footsteps begin to reach their hearing, so close to the door and is quickly followed by a knock. Sungchan's voice comes clear even through the thick wood and the jazz. "Dad? You in there?"

Taeyong has never moved so fast in his lifetime. There's a reason why he couldn’t even last an hour into P.E classes without excusing himself to the school clinic. In the small moment of panic, Doyoung drags him like a ragdoll to push him under the wide table that easily concealed Taeyong from Sungchan when Doyoung opens the door. 

* * *

_'The Light Hub, 19:30'_

Doyoung convinces himself that it isn't a date.

Aren't they too old for that? Isn't it too late for that? 

But then Taeyong pulls that shit— _aka,_ pulls a chair for Doyoung to sit on before taking his own across from him—and Doyoung feels a little of his resolve get carried away along with the music the live band is playing on the little stage of the restaurant. 

He tries to shake it off. Convinces himself that this is just a part of a foreplay that is completely unnecessary, if Doyoung must say. And that somewhere into the night, he'd end up on his elbows and knees, all for Taeyong. 

But then the path that he had set his eyes on shifted, taking him to the dance floor, with Taeyong. They sway to the music, their feet moving in complete resonance with each other. What comes next is the shift in the air when Taeyong plants his cheek against Doyoung's temple. Doyoung wants to run, for his long limbs to take him away before he is completely caught into the net that he had already stepped a foot on.

Too late, as the dam breaks open and Taeyong pours the words that Doyoung longed to hear without thousands of miles between them and without a telephone call being the only thing that connects them. 

"I'm sorry."

* * *

_'Wavy Sky Lounge, 20:00'_

Taeyong convinces himself not to hope too much. 

The night is still young. They have the lounge all to themselves. A full course meal is to be served when Doyoung strolls out of the elevator and Taeyong can take his hands into his. Or he can have the bar to himself when the elevator remains silent. 

But the elevator does _ding,_ it's metal doors slowly sliding away as if pushing against the current of time—too dramatically for an antsy Taeyong—and finally revealing the man that has only ever been the one for him. 

Hope plants itself in Taeyong's chest. The engine that warms him at the sight of Doyoung revs to console his cold hands. Taeyong sighs through his nose. Elation thrums on his skin, tingling by his fingertips as he wants to reach out to Doyoung and have him near in an instant. 

_'Bring Sungchan along if you want.'_

Taeyong had added to the first message he sent. 

And Doyoung had. 

There's bewilderment in Sungchan's face when he sees Taeyong waiting for them behind the steel doors. He wants to ask his father but when he turns and sees only clearness in Doyoung's eyes—gone is the mist of concealment that often led his father to wrong paths and wrong hands, something that Sungchan hated to see. So he lets the question fly away and instead welcomes the smile that Lee Taeyong casts their way. 

When they are seated, waiting for their food to be served, Sungchan feigns ignorance at the flutter of exultation in the air. Taeyong holds Doyoung's hand on his lap, gentle thumb tracing circles over his knuckles. 

Taeyong does have all of Doyoung. But, they both have so much more than the promise of secrecy and stolen times. 

**Author's Note:**

> btw this was inspired by The Penthouse™ if u know u know <3 thank u to everyone who read and enjoyed this! 
> 
> ♡ [twt](https://twitter.com/louvdear) / [cc](curiouscat.qa/dotaebfs)


End file.
